My Bad
by Lukeprism
Summary: It's Sunday, and Mihashi's home alone and hopelessly bored. Naturally, he invites Kanou over to his house. Light Kanou/Mihashi, K-plus just to be safe.


_**A/N: So I randomly watched the first couple of episodes of this anime because I was bored one day, and what do you know, I was completely hooked. These two would be (imo) completely adorable together, and I noticed a severe lack of Kanou/Mihashi fanfiction, so I decided to write one and contribute to this amazing fandom. Hopefully this does it justice!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't claim to own Ookiku Furikabutte/Big Windup!; that right belongs to Asa Higuchi, bless her heart.**_

—**s—t—a—r—t—f—i—c—t—i —o—n—**

Mihashi pulled an old white shirt over his head, completing his outfit for the day ahead. He wore the shirt along with a pair of long khaki shorts that came down a little ways past his knees, plus a sock on each foot that rose up to his ankles and fit snugly. His hair was its usual messy self, accentuated by the fact that he'd woken up only five or so minutes ago. He yawned and flopped back down on his bed lazily.

Contrary to his outward non-chalance, on the inside Mihashi's stomach was slightly knotted up in an emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on. Anxiousness? It wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. But this time it had a new twist on it. Like he was yearning to do something, something he knew he probably shouldn't do. He exhaled slowly and rolled over, planting his face into his pillow, mentally shrugging it off.

He was probably just hungry or something. But Mihashi didn't feel like getting up and out of the bed again just yet, so there he stayed, slowly dozing back off into the warmth of sleep. After a few minutes, he was on the very edge of consciousness and teetering toward thirty more minutes of rest when his cell phone let out a shrill _DING_! and vibrate combo, letting him know he had new mail. Normally the sound would have at least made the boy flinch in surprise, but it just knocked him from subconsciousness to half-awake once again.

He made a small sound of irritation, but slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and grabbed the phone anyway. Upon closer inspection, the message was revealed to be from his mother:

_From: Mom_ | _Date: 26 Aug 09:34am_ | _Subject: Working Late_

_Hey sweetie! Just letting you know that I'm working late today, so I left some curry in the fridge. Just heat it up for dinner, okay? See you later~_

Mihashi read it through, smiling to himself. His mom always made sure to take good care of him, even going so far as to make his favorite meal for him on days she was away at work until late. On the other hand, however, it also meant he'd be alone the whole day with nothing particularly interesting to do.

He thought about mailing some of his friends to see what they were doing, and possibly make some kind of plans to hang out or something, but then quickly thought better of it. Momokan had been working the crap out of them the entire week, trying to prepare for the Fall Tournament that would start in a month or so. Everyone had been positively exhausted yesterday evening after practice, so Mihashi was fairly certain everyone else would be sleeping well into the morning.

The phone's idle screen went dark as Mihashi stroked the buttons pensively. He'd suddenly identified the feeling from before: restlessness. In fact, there was one thing in particular he felt like doing at the present. He wanted to pitch. Even though he'd thrown over eighty pitches the day before, he still had an overwhelming urge to take the mound he'd made in his back yard and start lobbing balls at his target in each of the nine sections he'd trained himself to identify.

The image of Abe's angered face floated into his mind, and Mihashi couldn't help but flinch at it. Abe had already told him to quit practicing at home; that he could over-exert himself or something. But he didn't feel over-exerted at all. Actually, he felt so full of energy he thought he might start swelling up from its buildup at any moment. So, in a rare moment of somewhat-selfish determination, Mihashi decided that what Abe didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Or Mihashi.

But for some unknown reason, Mihashi felt like he wanted company. Someone there with him, someone who could relate with his desire to pitch so badly. It was a little uncharacteristic, what with Mihashi often denying his own mother permission to watch him out of fear his pitches wouldn't live up to her expectations, but it was what it was. He'd begun to realize that his control was something most people could only dream of mastering like he had, though he was still modest about it.

His mind drifted around for a second until settling on a person who fit the bill the best: Kanou Shuugo. A little surprised at himself, he initially rejected the idea because, well, it was Kanou. Mihashi still hadn't forgiven himself for sabotaging his chance at being the ace in junior high because of his own selfishness, refusing to hand the mound over, and assumed that Kanou probably still held a grudge against him for it. Plus, he and Kanou had never really done anything like practice together one-on-one before. It would be _weird_, not to mention sudden.

But the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it to happen. Mihashi wanted desperately to patch things up with Kanou once and for all, and maybe they could help each other out a bit with tips and pointers too. It had been a little over a week since they'd both lost important games and last mailed each other. Maybe this was just what they both needed; a nice, calm, friendly pitching session. And Mihashi knew that no coach in their right mind would schedule practice on a Sunday, not even Momokan.

Mind made up, the phone's screen lit up once more as Mihashi pressed the buttons furiously, locating Kanou in his contacts and composing a message that wouldn't sound overbearing and weird. After a few minutes of brainstorming, he finally had a simple draft that worked for him and hit the Send button before he could come back to his senses and tell himself that this was a stupid idea.

_To: Kanou Shuugo_ | _Date: 26 Aug 09:45am_ | _Subject: Pitching_

_Do you want to come over and practice pitching for a little while?_

He sat there for a few minutes, just reading over the sent message again and again until the screen went dark again and he began to fully realize what he'd done.

What if Kanou was tired because his coach had worked him all week like Momokan had? What if he was still asleep and Mihashi's mail woke him up? What if he was already out doing something else he'd actually planned to do before? What if...what if Kanou _didn't want_ to come over? _Didn't want_ to see him?

Mihashi flipped his phone closed and exhaled heavily, slouching glumly. He hadn't even considered any of that before. He'd most certainly be turned down, then, it couldn't be helped. Oh well; he could always pitch on his own, just like always. But Mihashi had been sort of excited at a chance to see Kanou again, and the fact that he'd almost certainly be shot down made him somewhat sad.

His self-pity session was interrupted abruptly by a _DING_! and his hand vibrating softly. Per usual, Mihashi flipped, dropping the phone onto his bed sheets with a loud squeak of surprise. He sure hadn't been expecting such a prompt turndown. After a few moments of staring at his phone debating whether or not to pick it up, he sighed and reached for it gingerly. Once opened, his inbox showed the reply was indeed from Kanou.

_From: Kanou Shuugo_ | _Date: 26 Aug 09:49am_ | _Subject: Re: Pitching_

_Sure. I'll be over there in about an hour, see you then._

Mihashi just about fell off the edge of his bed when he realized the first word was a synonym to 'yes'. Kanou's acceptance was a pleasant surprise after the way he'd prepared himself for an inevitable negative response. An hour was a respectable amount of time; he could get a little more sleep in and make himself some breakfast before he warmed up for Kanou's arrival.

A dopey little smile on his face, Mihashi set his phone back on his nightstand before settling back into his sleeping position for a little power nap. He inhaled and exhaled softly, clearing his mind and relaxing his body as much as he could get it to. But after several minutes of just laying there and not even dozing off in the slightest, he realized that he was feeling too anxious to sleep at the moment.

Pulling himself out of bed, he stood for a moment in thought before wandering over to his dresser to look himself over once again. Did he look okay? Was he wearing appropriate clothing? Staring at himself, he flashed a small, sheepish grin. This was supposed to be _casual_; whatever he had on already would do just fine. Why would he worry about what he had on? It didn't make any noticeable difference when he was pitching.

After a quick stop in the bathroom just down the hall from his room, Mihashi trudged downstairs into the kitchen, his stomach grumbling hungrily. He scoured the place, figuring out what they had and trying to decide what he should make, and in the end decided on a cup of instant noodles; he couldn't possibly mess that one up.

While they were cooking, Mihashi flipped on the T.V, seeing if anything good was on. When he found the answer was no, he shrugged and made his way back to the news channel, which was his default channel to watch idly if nothing else of interest was airing. Once his noodles were all done, he cleaned what little mess he'd made and sat himself on the sofa in front of it, fully attentive to it now.

He couldn't quite say he was enthralled with the content; it just droned on, female reporters with too much makeup on switching onto the screen from time to time to report the latest prefectural news and local events and such. The thing that caught his attention the most was actually a commercial for the very same instant noodles he was eating, making him laugh a little through his constant noodle-slurping noises.

About five or so minutes later, after Mihashi had finished his impromptu meal and disposed of the remnants, he sat back down to watch a little more of news. A few more uninteresting minutes ticked by before something actually caught Mihashi's admittedly easily sidetracked attention: an update on the teams scheduled to play in the final four round of the prefectural summer tournament.

Mihashi's spirits plummeted. Ever since the Nishiura Nine had lost right before the Best Eight, he had been pretty touchy on the subject of the tournament. He knew that it wasn't entirely his fault, but he couldn't help but wonder if he had done just a little bit better at keeping the opposing team from hitting, maybe they would be the ones moving on to the Final Four. Tears threatened to form in the corners of his eyes, but Mihashi wiped them away furiously. There was no use in crying over spilt milk. Or lost games.

The screen had switched back to the news station, revealing yet another woman with a microphone in her hands. But this time she was standing in front of a map of Japan, zoomed in to give a better view of Saitama and a couple of the surrounding prefectures. There was a yellow sun, indicating clear skies and nice temperatures. A few seconds later the predicted high for the day popped up in its place; it read 22 degrees. That was perfect weather to practice in, not too cold or too hot.

Speaking of practice... Mihashi turned his head to look at the clock hanging on the wall to his right. It read ten thirty. Thinking it better to be ready early then have Kanou arrive and have to wait for him to set up, he jumped up and ran back up to his room. Unzipping the bag next to his bed that held his baseball gear, he fished around until he found what he was looking for: his cleats and glove, the latter of which were still kind of dirty from yesterday's practice. He trotted back down, holding his things haphazardly.

Once outside on the porch in his backyard, Mihashi sat down to put his cleats on, pulling the strings tight to make them fit snugly. Done, he glanced up at his target. It'd been almost two weeks since he'd last pitched at it, just like Abe had told him. He shivered slightly at the thought of pitching at it again; the rush of doing something you knew you weren't supposed to do was foreign to him, since the boy had never really disobeyed anyone before.

A little door on the side of the house opened up into a storage area, which was where Mihashi kept his practice balls. Peering inside, he noticed that a couple of the balls were lying outside of the bucket that housed them; his father must've been messing with them. He liked doing that once in a while, said it reminded him of when he was young. Sighing a bit, the sandy brunette stooped to collect the misplaced balls and set them back in the bucket. Once he finished, he hoisted the bucket itself and carried it out, shutting the door behind himself.

Turning the corner back into the yard, Mihashi almost dropped the whole bucket when he saw someone standing near his mound, regarding it almost thoughtfully. The panic faded away when he realized it was someone who had permission to be there. Kanou was dressed similarly to Mihashi, with a navy blue shirt and khaki shorts on along with white socks and black Nike cleats paired with the leather glove he held in his hand. The part of his legs that could be seen were a bit more toned than they had been the last time Mihashi had seen him, almost a month ago. His dark hair had gotten slightly longer, framing his face evenly, and his eyes were as hazel and intimidating as ever. Mihashi found himself staring into them, entranced by their depth and brightness.

It took Kanou a few moments to notice Mihashi's gaze, but when he did he looked at the shock-frozen boy with a friendly smile that cut down on his eye's intimidation. "Hey, Ren," he greeted, his words reasonable and his voice the same as ever; maybe ever so slightly deeper.

Mihashi continued to stare for a few seconds. His eyes looked comfortable and relaxed. He'd never seen Kanou relaxed. Kanou was the type of person who was constantly thinking about something he needed or should do, whether it be baseball or homework or even what to buy for lunch the next day. And the way he said his name. He hadn't heard Kanou use his first name since... well, since he'd left Mihoshi, on the day he quit the team. And on top of that, his mind coming up with blanks. Sure, he'd wanted to see the other boy, but he hadn't put any thought into what he would say once he actually arrived.

Nevertheless, Mihashi managed to pull himself together enough to return the greeting. "H-hi!" he stuttered, as usual. Not knowing what else to say, he finally made his legs function again and they took him closer to Kanou, who had a slightly amused expression on his face. He set the bucket down next to him. "H-here're the balls," he blurted lamely, his mouth working with a mind of its own. If Kanou noticed, he didn't show it; he reached into the bucket and pulled out the topmost ball, rolling it around in his hand curiously.

"Hey," Kanou said abruptly, making Mihashi flinch ever so slightly. He tossed the ball into the air and caught it with the same hand. "Why don't we play catch for a while? You know, to warm up," he suggested, much to the other boy's relief.

Mihashi nodded fervently. "Good idea!" he replied, backing up to get some space between them. Kanou smiled in response before he too retreated a few steps.

The ground was still wet from the night before, when it had started to rain for a while; mud squelched underneath their cleats as they took their steps. Once they were a good five meters away from each other, they halted and put their gloves on. Mihashi loved the feeling of the glove encompassing his left hand, the softened leather absorbing his hand's warmth and insulating it nicely. The sandy brunette patted the palm of it a couple of times before returning his gaze to Kanou, who was looking at him as well. Mihashi jumped a little when their eyes met, but his gaze didn't falter and slip away like it usually would have.

"You ready?" Kanou called, his left hand situated inside his own glove.

Mihashi just gave him an affirmative nod, settling into a casual stance and ready to receive the pitch. He'd seen Kanou's pitches dozens of times before, and even batted against them, but he'd never caught any of them previous to this encounter. The dark-haired boy could get up to fifteen kilometers per hour faster than he himself could pitch, so it would definitely be pretty intense. Mihashi focused on the ball intently.

"Here it comes!" he heard Kanou say before he began to wind up. It was fairly serious-looking; he brought his hands up over his head before stretching his right arm back a good ways, and a moment later he slung it forward and let the ball free to fly toward Mihashi.

WHAP. The ball hit Mihashi's outstretched mitt a bit unceremoniously, the sound it made being much quieter that he had anticipated. The force of impact was also surprisingly dull; it couldn't have been more than eighty-five kph. His confusion must have been showing on his face, for the dark-haired boy across from him laughed, tilting his head back slightly to show off his faintly tanned neck.

"You look puzzled," he observed, with a sly yet amused tone. "Don't worry, I haven't gotten that bad. I'm still just warming up, remember? You'll get some good ones in a minute, just you watch," he reassured Mihashi, who just put on one of his trademark wobbly smiles in return. Kanou held his mitt out in front of himself, the palm facing outward toward the other boy. "Your turn," he said simply, reminding Mihashi that he did indeed have to throw the ball back.

He threw his own ball in a similar manner, mirroring Kanou's attempt. His hands stayed above his head for a split second longer, and his arm didn't go quite as far back as Kanou's had, but he brought his arm forward with just as much force. The ball went flying straight toward the other boy, who only had to move his mitt a mere centimeter to comfortably catch it. He stared at it for a moment before looking at Mihashi seriously. Mihashi's insides lurched; had he done something wrong?

"Your pitch..." he trailed off, fingering the ball softly as he spoke. "Even though we're just getting started, I can tell that they've gotten faster." He bobbed his head up and down once, an affirming gesture. "Good."

Mihashi felt his face heat up from the compliment. He nodded several times in quick succession and uttered a soft thanks in response. Kanou's words had made him all nice and warm inside, for some reason. Mihashi liked the feeling.

After that, the ball flew back and forth in a mesmerizing rhythm of whaps and whizzes. Both boys threw a little bit faster each time it was their turn to pitch, and had adjusted their windups accordingly. Kanou kept his word about throwing Mihashi some 'good ones'; some of them were phenomenal. A few small beads of sweat began to form on Mihashi's forehead as time went on, prompting him to wipe them away with a quick movement of his arm.

Kanou finally paused after the ball hit his mitt for the umpteenth time, taking said mitt off and giving his hand some air. Mihashi realized his own hand was practically drowning in its own sweat and did the same thing, tilting his head back to increase the amount of air he could inhale and exhale. Anyone else would have thought the boy looked exhausted, but to the contrary, Mihashi had only just gotten warmed up, with his energy at its peak.

The dark-haired boy caught Mihashi's gaze, and the latter stiffened a little out of habit. He wasn't scared or intimidated of Kanou (well, maybe a tad bit, but not nearly on the level Mihashi regarded Abe, who had more or less made his nervousness of other players as natural as breathing. That guy was just flat out _frightening_. Nice enough, but frightening), it had just become a habit for him. "Alright, man," Kanou said, tugging his mitt back on his hand and adjusting it a little bit as he walked over to Mihashi's duct tape representation of the strike zone, "let's see what you've really got." He squatted and held his gloved hand out in front of him, emulating a catcher.

Mihashi just stared at him blankly for a minute. What was Kanou doing? He wasn't a catcher.

The sandy brunette almost yelped when he spotted a ball coming toward him. Luckily, it was moving pretty slowly, so Mihashi had little trouble bringing his mitt up to catch it successfully. Looking back over at Kanou, he saw a small smile on the other boy's face, and his arm was out facing Mihashi, like he'd just thrown a ball.

"Earth to Mihashi?" the dark-haired boy called jokingly to him, waving his hand slightly for emphasis. "I just want to call a few pitches. That okay?" he asked in a way that told Mihashi he'd probably do it even if Mihashi said no.

Mihashi wasn't confident enough about his pitching yet to show anyone other than his teammates what he could do, much less Kanou, who was a better pitcher than him anyway. Why did he want to try calling them? Was it a test? "I..B-but... Y-you're not a catcher..." Mihashi replied lamely, mentally facepalming afterwards. _What a lame excuse!_

Kanou just chuckled in response. "Since when did you have to be a catcher to catch a ball?" he countered lightly.

Mihashi's face reddened at how easily his pitiful defense had been shrugged off by the other boy. _But wait..._ A sudden thought leaped into Mihashi's mind, a thought that Mihashi really couldn't stand even thinking about. "Y-you don't have any gear, or a-anything..." the fairer haired boy trailed off, looking past Kanou to the skull on his practice stand. "I wouldn't want you to get... h-hurt..."

Kanou looked genuinely taken aback for a moment, a look Mihashi had never seen grace his features before. But as soon as it came, it was gone, replaced by all out laughter instead. Mihashi frowned a little; he really was concerned for the other boy's well-being, after all.

"Don't worry, man," Kanou managed to say after his laughter died down. "Seriously. I should be able to catch what you throw. You don't ever accidentally hit your own catcher, do you?" Mihashi shook his head 'no'. "Well, there you go. Nothing to worry about," he reassured once more before taking a squatting stance and holding his mitt out experimentally. "Give me an easy one to start with, though. Let's say... fast ball down the middle." Kanou held his mitt directly in front of him, letting his other hand drop between his legs and absentmindedly make the sign for the pitch he'd called.

Mihashi swallowed hard. There was no way of getting out of this, was there? Then again, what had he expected when he'd invited Kanou over anyway? Gripping the ball as firmly as he could, he focused with all his might on the spot he'd be aiming for. After a few seconds, he began; lifting his left knee up high and bringing it down with a squelch on the muddy ground while his arm swung back and catapulted forward forcefully, the ball flying from it like a bullet out of a pistol. It seemed to float as it followed the path straight into Kanou's outstretched mitt with a loud _WHAP_.

The pseudo-catcher was grinning before the ball had even reached its destination. "That almost had me there for a second," he said, tossing the ball back to Mihashi. "Looked like it was going to end up lower, but you managed to get it into my mitt without me having to move it at all, like usual. Good job," he praised with a little thumbs-up. Mihashi flushed and managed a small, terribly stuttery 'thank you' in response. Kanou had never praised him like this before; it was nice.

"Now let's try something a little more difficult," Kanou interrupted Mihashi's dazed thoughts, adjusting his stance a little. "Screwball to the bottom right," he commanded amiably, placing his mitt in the corresponding spot.

Mihashi nodded dutifully. Adjusting his grip on the ball accordingly, he wound up and threw again. This time the ball strayed around a little bit before landing safely in the dark-haired boy's mitt yet again, much to Mihashi's relief.

"Nice form on that one," Kanou nodded his approval, throwing the ball back to the sandy brunette once again. Mihashi was elated; this was going just like he'd hoped it would, with them both (well, only Kanou right now) praising and offering each other tips to help improve themselves, pitcher to pitcher. He only wished they could have done this back in middle school; it would have made those three years a whole lot more tolerable.

"Alright, now, let's see.." Kanou trailed off in thought, looking at the sky as if it would give him an idea. "Oh, I've got it; curveball to the bottom right," he said, positioning himself to match the call. Mihashi nodded once before doing as he was told.

But he couldn't shake off a bad feeling; something didn't feel quite right during the windup. Mihashi didn't realize exactly what it was until his leg came down on the ground, and to his horror, slipped against the mud and nearly forced him into a spilt, causing the ball to fly out awkwardly from his hand and his face to collide with the ground.

For a moment, the worst thing about the literal slip up was that Mihashi had gotten all muddy and gross from the fall. Well, that and being totally embarrassed about it having happened in front of Kanou. But then he heard it. The sound of something hard and fast colliding with something soft, a muffled _WHOP_, and a sharp intake of breath complete with a strained grunt following not half a second later.

Well, that wasn't good.

Mihashi struggled to push himself up in a hurry from the muddy ground, completely panicky. Once he was on two feet again he was running, not caring about the fact that his entire front was covered in mud and that he could slip again easily. Kanou wasn't very far away, so it was only a few seconds before Mihashi was kneeling beside him, his expression anxious and terrified.

The dark-haired boy was holding his side, head bowed with his hair acting as a curtain that hid his face from view. A few soft hisses of pain could be discerned from his slightly labored breathing, and each one was like an arrow of guilt through the stomach to Mihashi. Dear God, how badly had he screwed up this time? "K-Kanou..?" Mihashi breathed, his voice barely audible even to his own ears.

There was a pause in which Mihashi was sure the other boy was glaring at the sound of his voice. The sandy brunette swallowed nervously, preparing himself for the yelling that was no doubt sure to come. Or, even worse than that, he'd just get up and leave without a word, like he used to after all of those games in middle school, when they'd always lost. Mihashi wasn't sure if he could handle it another time.

But when Kanou lifted his head to face him, all he saw was a slightly pained smile waiting for him. "You know, this is the first time I've ever been thankful for your slower pitches," he chuckled dryly.

Mihashi's brain pretty much melted down on the spot. Why was he smiling? Why was he joking around like Mihashi hadn't just pelted him in the side? Why was he so _goddamn nice_ to him, even after everything Mihashi had done? A few drops of water plopped onto his knees, and Mihashi was somewhat surprised to discover that they were his own tears. He wiped at them furiously. And he had the nerve to cry in front of him...

But no matter how hard he tried to stop, his tear ducts wouldn't do as they were told. He heard more than saw Kanou's befuddlement, the boy making a small sound of confusion. "Huh… Mihashi?" he said slowly. But the way he said it… he sounded genuinely concerned, which made Mihashi's tears flow that much harder. "Hey man, what's wrong?"

Mihashi couldn't bring himself to lift his now-downturned head to meet the other boy's eyes. He sat there with his hands over his face in a feeble attempt to hide the gushing waterfalls that were his eyes, reduced to a sniveling mess of nerves. "I… I j-just… you… l-last… and n-now.. I…" It was almost as if the sandy brunette was speaking in a different language altogether. Kanou was baffled. "What…?" he asked softly, worry clear in his voice. Worry that Mihashi didn't deserve, worry that sent Mihashi over the edge.

"I-I'm _sorry_, K-Kanou!" he blurted with a shout, his fists colliding with his own upper thighs. "S-so… so sorry… f-for everything…" he managed to choke out. Mihashi couldn't believe himself, but now that he was talking, he couldn't be stopped. "I'm so s-sorry for h-hitting you.. j-just now… I'm sorry f-for being such a.. such a w-wimp all the t-time… I-I'm sorry for b-being such a b-brat back in m-middle school… I j-just…" he trailed off, losing momentum and bowing his head even lower. His voice became barely audible. "I'm sorry."

There was a seemingly endless moment of silence during which Mihashi was almost positive Kanou had gotten up and left him there, all alone. But all moments pass eventually, and he heard the dark-haired boy sigh. Mihashi shut his eyes tight, afraid of what Kanou would say. The latter took a deep breath.

"Ren, we've been over this before," Kanou said, sounding exasperated but relieved. "Middle school was middle school. We don't need to dwell on the past; I forgave you for that a long time ago." Mihashi's eyes shot open at that. Kanou _didn't_ resent him…? "And another thing, you didn't throw the ball at me on purpose, did you?" Kanou added. Mihashi's body visibly flinched at the mention of his most recent blunder. "No, I can tell you didn't. The ground's muddy and you fell face first, man, I totally understand that it was an accident," he continued matter-of-factly. "It could've happened to anyone."

Mihashi's heart swelled at Kanou's kindness. _He's such a good person…_ He slowly lifted his head, not caring that his face was still soaking wet or that his eyes were still shining dangerously, to face the other boy. Kanou's hand was still on his side, but when their eyes met he smiled tentatively at him, forgiving him and lifting all those worries away for good. Mihashi returned the smile with the best one of his own he could muster.

Kanou's expression changed then, but Mihashi didn't have time to see what it had changed to, because the dark-haired boy had taken his hand away from his side and wrapped both his arms around the sandy brunette, pulling him in close for a hug. The smaller of the two boys froze, and his heart started beating frantically. Kanou's grip was light but firm, keeping them both pressed together. Mihashi suddenly thought of something. "U-uhm…Shuu," he began hesitantly, using Kanou's nickname for the first time since they'd lost the games. "You'll get yourself c-covered in mud…"

Kanou's only response was to tighten his grip on Mihashi and bury his face into the boy's left shoulder. Mihashi's face reddened; he wasn't sure what to do now. But he figured he would do what he felt he should do instead of what someone else would do in his position, so he placed his own arms around Kanou lightly, returning the embrace. They sat like that for a long time, enjoying each other's proximity and warmth.

Kanou was the first to move, and while normally Mihashi would've separated himself from the other almost instantaneously, he found himself slowly and reluctantly pulling away. Kanou smiled at him before standing up and stretching, wincing slightly at the bruise forming on his side. Mihashi did the same, noticing how dirty he was for the first time. He saw, guiltily, that Kanou's front had been dirtied as well, just like he'd warned earlier.

"I guess we should clean ourselves up, huh?" Kanou suggested, looking at his own shirt in contempt. Mihashi smiled faintly. He knew Kanou absolutely _loathed_ being dirty; sweat was one thing, but mud? The guy couldn't stand it. When Kanou glanced at Mihashi seeking an answer, he nodded in agreement. They both walked over to the door that led back into the house. As Mihashi was opening the door, Kanou thought aloud. "We can shower together to conserve water, I guess," he said, half-smiling.

When that statement hit his ears, Mihashi nearly fainted. His knees buckled under him and he wobbled dangerously for a moment before Kanou grabbed his shoulders in an attempt to keep him upright. "Ren, that was what you'd call a joke," Kanou chuckled, pushing him gently inside. "You can go first." And while they were walking toward the bathroom and chuckling along the way, their hands found themselves holding each other's, fingers interlaced lightly. They both realized this and blushed, but neither tried to pull away from the tender gesture.

Mihashi couldn't help but think that this was the beginning of something wonderful.

—**e—n—d—f—i—c—t—i—o—n—**

_**A/N: R&R? –shot- Seriously, though, reviews are nice. Thanks for reading!**_


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